THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE   COLLECTION  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINIANA 


C378 

UK3 
18U^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00036720851 


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AN    ADDRESS 

DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE 

TWO  LITERARY   SOCIETIES, 

OF   THI 

UNIVERSITY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA, 

IN  GERARD  HALL, 

ON  THE  MY  PRECEDING  THE 
ANNUAL     COMMENCEMENT 

IN  JUNE,  1845, 

UNDER  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF   THE 

DIALECTIC  SOCIFTY, 

BY    THE  REV.  THOMAS    F.  DAVIS. 


Publislied  by  order  of  §aid  Society. 


HALEIGH; 

PRINTED   BT   VT.   R.   GALES — REGISTER   OFFICE. 


AN    ADDRESS 


DELIVEKED  BEFORE  THE 


TWO  LITERAEY  SOCIETIES, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA. 

IN  GERARD  HALL, 

ON  THE  DAY  PRECEDING  THE 

ANNUAL     C  O  M  fri  E  N  C  E  M  E  N  T 

li^  JUNE,  1845, 
UNDER  THE  APPOINTxMENT  OF  THE 

DIALECTIC  SOCIETY, 

BY   THE  REV.  THOMAS   F.  DAVIS, 


Piiblislicci  by  or<ler  of  said  Society. 


RALEIGH: 

PPvINTED  ET  Vv.   R.  GALES — REGISTER  OFFICE- 


^ 


:«  A-  S 


f 


C» 


Dialectic  Hall,  /z////  26t7i,  184S. 

Sir  :  At  a  meeting  of  the  Dialectic  Society,  held  on  Friday  night  July  25th, 
the  undersigned  were  appointed  a  Committee  to  tender  you  the  thanks  oCthat 
body,  for  the  very  able  and  interesting  Address  delivered  before  the  two 
Literary  Societies  on  the  day  precedmg  Commencement,  and  to  request  of 
you  a  copy  of  the  same  for  publicr.tion. 

Permit  us  Sir,  to  express  the  extreme  gratification  experienced  during  its 
delivery,  and  to  add  our  individual  solicitations  to  those  of  the  Society  \vs 
represent. 

With  sentiments  of  the  highest  respect. 
Your  obedient  Servants, 

SION  H.  ROGERS,  ) 


DAVID  S.  JOHNSTON,     >  Committee: 
WM.  F.  CARTER.  ) 


To  Rev.  Thos,  F.  Davis, 

SaHsbury,  J\''or!h  Carolina. 


Salisbury,  July  30th,  1845. 
Gentlemen  :  Accept  my  thanks  for  the  kind  and  flattering  manner  in  which 
you  have  communicated  to  me  the  wishes  of  the  Society,  that  the  Address 
delivered  the  day  before  Commencement  should  be  published.  I  can  see 
no  sufficient  reason  for  withholding  it  from  you,  and  therefore  forward  it,  only 
wishing  it  were  more  worthy  of  your  regard. 

Very  respectfully,  and  truly 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

THOS,  F.  DAVIS, 
To  Messrs.  Rogers,  Johmstoh  and  Carter, 

Chapel  Hill,  JVorlh  Carolina, 


ADDRESS. 


Gentlemen  of  the  FhllanthropJiic 

and  Dialectic  Societies : 

Your  annual  festival  has  returned,  with  its  appropriate  so- 
lemnities. Willing  guests  have  visited  you.  Here  are 
assembled,  spectators,  friends,  parents — the  eye  of  curiosity, 
the  interest  of  kindness,  the  heart  of  anxious  afiection.  At 
your  request,  I,  too,  have  come,  to  re-visit  the  theatre  of 
early  life,  and  to  discharge  ihe  duty,  your  kindness  has  as- 
signed me.  Around  me  are  the  scenes  of  other  days — 
within,  their  memory.  Thoughts,  too  long,  perhaps,  EuSered 
to  sink  into  forgetfulness,  come  thronging  back — bearing 
with  them  vivid  realities.  Tl^.e  past  rises  up — mingles  v»?ith 
the  present,  and  imparts  to  it,  its  own  aspect.  The  occasion 
is  full  of  pleasing,  yet  chastened  emotion.  The  mind  is 
brightened  with  this  reviviscence  of  youth,  but  saddened  as 
it  reverts  to  what  time  and  mortality  have  done.  The  ex- 
tremes of  life  meet  here.  Into  the  view,  com.e  both  the 
morning  and  the  evening  twilight. 

I  come  to  endeavor  to  do  for  you,  v;hat,  more  than  twenty 
years  ago,  older  friends  and  wise  m.onitors  did  for  me  and  my 
companions — to  assure  you  of  fraternal  regard—to  cheer  you 
on,  in  the  opening  career  of  life — and  to  offer  you  ihe  bene- 
fits of  counsel  sanctioned  by  maturity — the  lessons  of  expe- 
rie7ice,  that  hard,  but  wholesome  teacher. 

But,  upon  what  subject,  and  with  what  words,  shall  I 
address  you  ?  In  looking  back  upon  the  history  of  these 
annual  commemorations,  I  find  little  to  encourage  me.  This 
is  no  new  task.  None  that  has,  '  herto,  been  unskilfully 
performed.     Before  me,  have  trod  /he  sons  of  genius  and  of 


J' 


science.  In  this  place,  have  stood  your  first  men — men  not 
unknown  to  fame — whose  very  names,  werehoth  incitement 
and  authority.  They  have  given  you  the  rijDe  fruits  of  their 
understanding,  and  poured  out  before  you,  the  treasures  of 
their  learning.  Every  subject  of  taste,  interest  and  excel- 
lence, they  have  adorned  and  exhausted.  What  is  there  left 
for  rne  ?  Believe  me,  I  feel  the  difficulties  of  my  position. 
Nor  is  this  all.  To  say  truth — some  of  us,  who  come  here 
from  the  world  to  address  you,  find  ourselves  poorly  fitted 
to  the  oflice.  Common  life,  with  its  homely  duties,  and  >^ 
stern  demands,  has  too  much  debased  and  hardened  us.  Ne- 
cessity has  driven  avvay  recreation  ;  utility  usurped  the 
seat  of  pleasure,  and  reality,  impaired  imagination.  We 
have  ceased  to  "listen  to  the  whispers  of  fancy,  or  (o  follow 
the  phantoms  of  hope."  Because  of  these  things,  in  the  lit- 
erary tournament,  we  are  unworthy  knights.  Our  armour 
is  rusted — our  lances  turn  aside.  Our  skill  has  forsaken  us. 
And  shall  I  confess  it,  our  valour  is  blenched.  The  days  of 
chivalry  are  o'er  with  us,  and,  if  you  knew  all,  you  would 
have  to  write,  craven^  upon  our  crests.  Our  apology  is,  that 
we  are  not  volunteers  in  the  lists.  We  enter  at  your  behest, 
and  rely  upon  your  forbearance.  For  our  puissance,  we 
claim  not  guerdon  of  your  clemency  ;  we  solicit  indulgence. 

Permit  me,  passing  over  the  details  and  ampler  descrip- 
tions of  the  various  subjects,  already  treated  of  before  you 
so  successfully,  to  direct  your  attention  to  the  source  of  ali 
• — the  Mind  itself.  It  is  not  my  purpose  to  enter  into  the 
depths  of  its  philosophy — to  disturb  the  secrets  of  metaphy- 
sics, but  simply  to  lay  before  you  some  of  the  advantages  and 
pleasures  of  a  cultivated  intellect.  I  propose  them,  as  com- 
municating to  man,  his  highest  ornament  and  dignity  j  and, 
to  life,  its  finest  relish. 

If  we  look  abroad  over  nature,  we  shall  at  once  perceive, 
that  man  has,  here,  unquestioned  pre-eminence.  He,  also, 
bears  his  Creator's  image  upon  earth.  We  shall  find,  too, 
that  the  especial  manifestations  of  tiiis,  are  in  the  spiritual 
part  of  his  being— in  his  reason— in  the  distinctive  and  pro- 

•f  -  ■   .,     .  .  - 

#■  ■    • 


gressivc  f^icuUies  of  his  understanding.  Nature  blooms 
around  him  in  her  loveliness,  and  towers  above  liim,  in  her 
inagnificence  and  grandeur.  He  acknowledges  it,  and,  as 
lie  looks  upon  the  glory  which  God  has  thrown  over  creation, 
and  upon  the  wonders  of  his  hand,  is  ready  to  slirink  witliin 
himself,  as  he  feels  his  own  insignificance.  But,  when  he 
would  go  forth  to  hold  converse  with  these  works  of  the 
Almighty,  there  is  none  to  answer — no  return  of  intellect — 
no  soul  of  sympathy.  Unrevealing,silent, lies  before  him,  the 
inanimate  world.  The  earth  nourishes  his  body,  but  furnishes 
no  food  to  his  Soul.  "  Tlie  depth  saith  it  is  not  in  me,  and 
the  Sea  saith,  it  is  not  with  me."  If  he  turn  and  elevate  his 
view  to  animate  nature,  he  beholds  an  advance  in  the 
quickening  impulses  of  life  and  a  guidance  of  instinctive 
power  ;  but  no  demonstrative  principles  of  reason,  no  simili- 
tude, in  kind,  with  himself.  There  are  no  rational  discrimi- 
nations—  noexpansions  of  mind — nomultiplications  of  attain- 
ments. Other  animals  come  into  the  world,  with  bodily 
powers,  equal  to  his  own  in  exact  and  perfect  mechanism 
— superior  in  extent  and  strength.  Sooner,  too,  are  they 
matured  and  qualified  to  act  their  parts.  But  he  fmds  no 
spirit  of  the  mind,  no  developments  of  intellect.  Not  so 
with  himself.  His  chief  and  noble  distinction  is,  discourse 
of  reason  and  progress  in  spirit,  Ke  is  not  limited  to  nature 
and  to  instinct.  He  finds  that  Vv'ithin  him,  which  points  him 
onward — carries  him  beyond — lifts  him  above.  Elements 
of  increase,  of  universality,  of  eternity,  are  his.  He  feels 
Iheir  power.  Ke  sees  their  honor  and  majesty.  Divine 
providence,  too,  in  the  endlessness  of  its  varieties  and  fulness 
of  its  bounties,  calls  upon  him,  to  rise  up  to  the  exercise 
and  enjoyment  of  his  privileges — to  put  forth  the  distinctive 
might  of  his  intellect,  and  gather  from  all  sources,  physical- 
social,  scientific,  moral,  the  riches  of  his  glorious  inheritance. 
Thus  are  we  urged  to  exert  our  faculties,  and  fulfil  our  hi"-h 
destinies.  The  indications,  then,  of  the  world  without,  and 
the  impulses  of  the  world  within,  unite  to  show  us,  that  a 
man's  proper  duty,  is   the  culture  of  hio  nobler  part.     The 


'^ 


pvopcrUes  of  his  liiind  are  liis  great  enuowmcnt.  In  Ihein 
he  must  find  his  distinction,  his  honor  and  his  felicity.  To 
neglect  them,  is  to  thwart  the  henign  purpose  of  his  Creator. 
To  pollute  them  is  crime.  How  unfaithful  to  himself  is  that 
man,  who  improves  not  this  rich  gift  hcstowed  upon  him — this 
sacred  trust  committed  to  his  care  I  How  far  below  his  na- 
ture is  he,  who,  disregarding  the  voice  within,  and  forgetting 
his  high  prerogatives,  humbles  himself  to  the  passing  moment, 
and  to  the  poor  pleasures  of  sense  and  of  the  world.  How 
guilty  is  he,  who  immerses  his  Spirit  in  defiling  thoughts  and 
purposes — who  corrupts  his  own  Soul,  and  grovels  in  base 
sensuality,  and  brutish  vice.  Not  for  this  has  God  made  us. 
Far  from  us,  be  such  desecration. 

The  n:ost  exalted  perhaps,  of  tiie  benefits  and  i)leasures  cf 
a  cultivated  mind,  is  its  self-sustaining  power — its  indepen- 
dence of  external  circumstances,  through  its  own  resources. 
I  would  not  here,  betray  you  into  error  by  the  pride  of  a 
transcendental  theory.  In  our  highest  state,  we  are  not,  in 
such  wise,  superior  to  our  condition  in  life,  that  we  can  afford 
to  contemn  it.  Its  duties  were  ordained,  not  to  be  forsaken, 
i)ut  discharged.  And,  we  are  so  constituted,  as  to  find  the 
proprieties  of  our  being,  in  their  relation  and  conformity  to 
our  state  in  life.  True  wisdom,  is  in  the  balance  of  all  our 
affections  and  duties.  He  is  (he  perfect  man,  whose  faculties, 
.sound  and  pure,  are  in  right  arrangement — all  the  principles 
of  whose  internal  organization  are  drawn  cut,  and  meet  and 
harmonize  with,  their  correspondent  demands.  This  is 
that  perfection  which  is  of  mortal  mould — the  symmetry 
and  consummation  of  our  excellence.  He,  therefore,  who 
would  fly  the  world  mistakes  the  purposes  of  his  creation. 
lie,  also,  misdirects  his  pursuit  of  happiness — ^and  while  he 
grasps  at  pleasure,  would  but  embrace  a  shadow.  I  would 
not,  then,  too  much  depress  man's  condition  in  the  world. 
But  I  must  not  too  much  exalt  it.  This  were  to  teach  error, 
and  hasten  on  your  disappointment  by  exposing  the  tender- 
ness of  feeling  to  too  early  a  blight.  Kot  to  escape  life,  not 
vainly,  to  force  ourselves   above  it,  but  to  learn  to  bear  it 


■^^^^ 


well,  is  the  elhioal  [)rccepl.  ITiippy  is  ihat  man,  \v!-o  ivhiJe 
iie  lives  without,  lives  al.-^o.  n  higiier  and  better  life  within — ■ 
who  has  in  his  own  hosom,  tlic  invisible  power,  wiiioh.  both 
si'.slains  life,  and  raises  him  above  itsunhappiiiess  and  injury. 
Happy  he,  who  can,  at  any  moment,  turn  aside  from  its  din 
and  its  dust,  its  tumult  and  its  troubles,  to  calm  retreat  and 
refreshing  waters;  who  can  look  upon,  and  understand,  and 
yet  not  be  aSTectsd  by  its  low  employments,  its  petty  cares, 
its  sordid  avarice  and  its  vulgnr  pleasures,  jlmid  it  all,  he 
regards  but  his  own  duty.  Through  it  all,  with  undehled 
garments,  he  passes  up  to  liis  own  castle  on  a  rock.  Thence, 
as  from  a  citadel  of  strengtli  invulnerable,  he  looks  out  upon 
the  poor  struggles  below,  not  with  complacent  pride,  but 
with  the  calm  composure  of  freedom — the  pure  and  blessed 
serenity  ofa  mind  at  ease — unmoved  and  immoveable.  Here 
is  that  which  is  our  own — with  which  a  '•  stranger  inter- 
meddleth  not,"  which  no  man  taketh  from  us.  Here  we  caa 
smile  at  the  world's  frowns — defy  its  enmity — and  defeat  its 
malice.  We  can  even  rise  above  the  infirmitiesof  nature,  and 
exult  in  that  in  us  which  decays  not.  What  a  noble  instance 
of  the  mind's  triumph  have  wc  in  IMilton  !  Whh  what  ad- 
miration, amounting  to  reverence,  do  we  behold  the  poor  old 
blind  man,  as  "broken  by  the  storms  of  State,"  and  driven, 
from  the  world,  he  paid  th.e  debt,  he  promised  to  posterity. 
With  what  pathos  of  ieeling,  do  we  hear  his  appeal  for  that 
illumination  inwardly,  which  was  lost  to  his  bodily  organs — • 
— and  with  the  faith  ofa  Christian  and  conscious  power  of  a 
Poet,  tune  his  harp  to  sacred  themes,  and  iling  from  it  strains 
that  shall  never  die.  Another  instance,  we  have  in  Lord 
Bacon.  In  banishment  from  all  that  he  had  held  too  dear— 
in  dishonor,  disgrace,  contempt,  he  sought  in  his  mind,  re- 
sources of  life  and  dignity  and  found  there,  what  the  world 
had  never  given.  Do  you  ask,  can  mind  be  so  humiliated  ? 
I  ask  again,  what  but  mind  could  so  rise  amid  humiliation  ? 
What  could  have  so  despoiled  infamy,  and  in  despite,  even 
of  her  accusations  of  truth,  have  still  given  his  name  to  his 
country  a  pass  word  and  an  honor.     Nor  will  we  limit  this 


*lk 


superiority  of  the  mind  to  subjects  oi'  Iiighand  grave  imporl. 
We  are  entitled  to  claim  for  it.  all  its  luxur}-.  It  is  not  be- 
low our  dignity,  and  certainly  takes  nothing  from  our  de- 
iii^ht,  to  come  down  to  its  sports  and  pastimes.  All  its  de- 
lectations of  thought,  feeling  and  expression — the  spirit  of 
the  pleasing — the  sense  of  the  amusing — its  flashes  of  wit — 
its  absurdities  of  humour,  all  belong  to  us  and  we  claim  them 
all.  Who  shall  tell  us  the  inward  delights  of  the  Bard  of 
Avon,  as  his  m3'riad  mind  threw  its  enchantments  over  the 
subjects  of  its  own  creation.  Here  was  a  I\Ionarch.  Com- 
j)arcd  with  him,  what  was  the  haughty  Queen  upon  her 
throne,  or  the  tinseled  and  obsequious  courtiers  that  sur- 
rounded her?  Sh.e  ruled  them  and  other  subjects  of  her  will 
and  power.  He  ruled  probably,  no  human  being.  His  kind 
and  gentle  soul  asked  no  such  government.  But,  at  his  feet, 
iay  the  whole  world  of  Spirits  and  of  nature.  His  subjects 
were  his  oflspring — bore  his  lineaments,  and  were  to  be 
looked  upon  Vviih  pleasure,  and  with  pride.  Must  he  not 
have  had,  too,  presentient  convictions  of  their  immortality  ? 
How  must  he  have  rejoiced  in  himself,  as  his  creative  fancy 
drew  its  pictures  !  All  have  wondered  at  his  singular  wit, 
his  inimitable  touches  of  nature,  his  admirable  perception  of 
the  humorous  and  grotesque  in  character.  Still  more 
astonishing,  is  the  power,  by  which  he  threw  his  thoughts 
into  life.  His  characters  are  all  true  to  him,  true  to  them- 
selves. He  has  made  them,  even  yet^  to  live  and  speak 
among  us.  Amid  what  exuberance  of  thought,  what  a  tumult 
of  delight,  must  he  have  seen  them,  rise  up  before  him,  and 
take,  from  his  originating,  combining  genius,  form  and 
motion  ?     Shall  we  follow  the  Poet  farther,  as  he 

"  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown, 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

Shall  we,  in  despite  of  ourselves,  keep  company  with  Fal- 
staflf,  though  we  despise  him — frolic  with  Prince  Hal — 
laugh  at  Malyolio — sympathize  nith  the  tender,  jealous,  and 


9 

honornble  Moor — wenpover  the  gentle  Desdemonfi— admire, 
at  the  wayward  and  exquisite  charm  of  the  Prince  of  Den- 
mark's subtilizing  mind,  with  its  under-current  of  refined 
philosophy  ?  I  forbear !  The  subject  is  dangerous.  It  too 
readily  leads  to  excess.  It  is  one,  on  which  the  lover  of 
genius  and  of  nature  is  not  willing  to  grow  cool,  and  knows 
not  where  to  stop.  The  wand  of  the  Poet  is  on  us.  We  are 
unfitted  for  cautious  prudence  and  sober  thought.  We  are 
in  his  laud  of  fairies,  and  will  not  be  disenchanted.  The  world 
below  is  too  bright  and  beautiful — the  Heavens  above  too 
glorious.     We  are  enamored  with  Lorenzo,  and  say — 

'•  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank  ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears." 

Another  ver}'  lovely  feature  of  the  cultivated  mind  is  its 
spirit  of  young  life — its  ceaseless  rejuvenescence.  It  is  never 
old — ever  springing  up  into  beauty  and  freshness,  and  fertili- 
ty.    Like  the  celebrated  Egyptian  Queen 

"  Age  cannot  wither  it,  nor  custom  stale 
Its  inlinite  variety." 

It  places  upon  the  hoary  head  a  crown  of  perennial  ver- 
dure. Impressed  with  the  frailty  of  life — burdened  with  its 
cares — sinking  under  the  weight  of  its  labours — passing  away 
with  its  advancing  years,  we  naturally  look  around  for  some 
token  of  better  things.  With  what  jo}'-,  then,  do  we  recog- 
nize  the  evidences  of  perpetual  youth,  and  hail  the  premoni- 
tions of  eternity  ?  How  delighful  it  is  to  witness  the  exhibi- 
tions  of  the  life  of  mind  ?  It  is  with  the  fondest  emotion,  we 
listen  to  the  tongue  of  age,  while  it  gives  utterance  to  the 
spirit  within.  How  we  revel  with  that  spirit  as  it  disports 
itself  with  the  pleasures  of  the  imagination — returns  to  the 
gardens  of  youth,  and  gathers  fragrance  from  the  flowers  of 
hope.  After  years  of  struggle,  sorrow,  and  suffering,  we  find 
it  baptized  with  the  dews  of  the  morning,  and  rejoicing,  even 
as  in  the  dawn  of  life.     We  listen,  and   seem  to  hear  the 


B 


4 


1© 

miirmur  of  streamc,  and  song  of  birds.  We  stand  still, 
and  the  breath  of  spring  comes  over  us,  redolent  and  balmy 
— the  sweet  South,  from  a  "  bed  of  violets.'^  This  spirit  of 
the  mind  how  quick  and  fresh  it  is  ?  How  lovely,  and  how 
pure — the  blessing  of  the  present,  the  promise  of  the  future. 
Among  its  finest  illuslralions,  let  me  refer  to  one  of  whom 
we  are  justly  proud,  and  whose  memory  is  in  all  our  hearts. 
Who  is  there  that  knew  him,  and  knew  him  well,  that  has 
not  often  hung  upon  ihe  lips  of  William  Gaston.  I  speak 
not  now  of  tliat  nii^jeslic  elcquence,  wliich  commanded 
Senates — of  those  wonderful  professional  abilities,  wliich  di- 
rected and  determined  the  issues  of  jurisprudence — nor  of 
all  those  rich  and  varied  attainments,  v.'hich  ranked  him 
among  the  very  fust  men  of  his  age.  I  allude  to  the  ever 
elastic  play  of  his  mind--fo  its  wit,  its  vivacity,  its  buoyan- 
cy. I  vvouid  call  up  a;;:ain,  tiiat  youthful  joy,  and  ever- 
brightening  life  of  the  spirit  wliich  breathed,  and  moved  and 
quicken'id,  imparting  charm  to  his  conversation,  and  giving 
delight  to  his  hearer.s — which  threw  its  halo  around  departing 
life,  and  would  not  be  either  removed  or  repressed,  by  the 
elevated  superiority  of  his  understanding,  nor  the  acknowl- 
edged dignity  cf  his  character.  lie  has  passed  from  among 
us,  but  has  impressed  on  our  tiioughts,  the  model  of  whatever 
S3  great  in  a  man,  united  wit!)  all  that  is  pleasing  and  honora- 
ble in  a  gent'enian.  The  line  of  light  which  he  has  left  be- 
hind him,  is  still  brig'it — and  let  it  be  to  the  young  men  of 
North  Carolina,  the  subject  of  frequent  contemplation. 

When  thus  we  witness  the  continued  3'oath  of  the  mind, 
it  is  not  to  us  only  as  a  picture  of  loveliness.  It  does,  in- 
deed, excite  the  admiration,  captivate  the  imagination,  and 
satisfy  our  inmost  sense  of  beaut)^  But  it  does  more.  It 
appeals  to  all  our  deepest  feelings  and  sympathies.  "We  see 
in  it  a  law  of  our  nature — an  exultation  and  glory  of  the  im- 
mortal spirit.  It  is  a  living  energy — a  corporate  power — • 
an  inherent,  essential  principle  of  our  common  humanity. 
It  draws  us,  then,  to  more  profound  meditations.     This  ad- 


11 


vaiicing  cui(Lire  and  perpctaal  youth  of  the  mitidj  lifts  our 
thoughts  higher  than  lo  present  pleasure  and  pride.     It  is  the 
promise  and  prefiguration  of  nobler,  and  mere  enduring  tri- 
umplis.     You  reu:eniher,  Gentlemen,  the  paper  of  jNIr.  Ad- 
dison, in  wiiich  with  that  chifisic  elegance  and  simplicity  of 
truth,  for  tvIiicJ:;  iie  i;j  so   rcmarkao'c,  h.e  discourses   on  the 
souFs  immortality;  and  dra\V3  h;s  chief  arguments  from  its 
spiritual  capacity  and  unceasing  progre-'3.''    With,  what  aston- 
ishment and  veneration  may  we  look   in'o   our  c.vn  souls, 
where  there  are  such  hidden  stores  of  virtue  and  knowledge 
— such  inexhausted  sourcea  of  perfection.     Can  an  infinitely 
wise  Being  exult  in  abortive  intelligences  ?     V^ould  he  give 
us  talents  that  are  not  (o  be  exerted  ?     Capacities,  that  are 
never  to  he  gratified  ?     How  can  vve  find  that  wisdom,  which 
shines  through,  all  his  works,  in  ihe  formation  of  man,  with- 
out looking  on  this  world  as  only  a  nursery  for  the  nc:it,  and 
believing  that  the  several  generations  of  rctional  creatures, 
which  rise  up  and  disappear  in  such  quick  successions,  are 
only  to  receive  the  first  rudiments   of  existence  here,  and 
afterwards  to   be  transplanted   to  a  more  friendly  climate, 
vv/hcre  they  may  spread  and  flourish  to  ail  eternity.''     In  this 
chaste  and  expressive  language  of  the  first  British  Classic,  vve 
have  brought  before  usa  subject  of  intenseand  endless  conside- 
ration. Without  this  belief  in  and  cxpectaticn  of  futurifj',  man 
is  an    inexplicable  problem — born  to  no  end  commensurate 
with  his  nature — livingtonofulfilmentcorrespondenl  with  his 
faculties — a  flower  blighied  in  its  bud — a  plant  withered  be- 
fore its  perfection.     Look  upon  th::t  child — bioomino-  beau- 
tiful infant,  peri^cct.  in   its  formation — uniting  all  faculties 
of  body  and  soul.     It  has  brought  with  it  into  the  world,  the 
impress   of  a  Divine    Creator.     All  its  capacities  bear  the 
promise  of  life,  joy  and  fruition.     But  it  has   only  breai' ed 
upon  that  world  into  which  it  is  born,  and  it  is  gone.     The 
tyrant  Death  has  cut  it  down  and  stopt  its  course.     Is  it  for- 
ever ?     Will  God  be  thus  triumphed  over  .''     Is  he  weaker 
than  his  enemies?     Shall  this,  his  creature,  which  he  hath 
£0  wonderfully  made,  endowed  and  brought  into  being,  be 


%-A 


thus,  at  once  and  forever,  frustrate  of  its  Creator's  benefi- 
cence, and  sink  again  into  the  abyss  of  emptiness  and  dark- 
ness ?  Or  is  tlierc  for  it,  a  never-ending  existence,  a  futu- 
rity, in  wh.ich  it  shall  expand  its  faculties  eternally  ? 

Look  at  that  young  man  !  In  nature's  prime.  The  model 
of  early  manhood  in  person.  In  intellect,  quick,  pure  and 
excellent.  In  attainment,  though  still  young,  a  scholar  "  ripe 
and  good  !''  He  is  bursting  forth  into  the  maturity  and  ful- 
ness of  his  powers.  He  feels  within  him  all  the  ardour  and 
sanguine  expectation  of  life — all  the  acute  sensibilities  of 
genius — all  the  quickening  impulses  of  Spiritual  intelligence. 
He  feelSj  too,  that  though  much  is  learned,  much  more  is  be- 
fore him.  He  is  but  launching  his  bark  upon  the  vast  ocean 
of  life  and  knowledge.  Eager  wishes,  insatiable  desires  are 
within  him.  He  longs  to  hoist  his  sail  and  be  away.  But 
just  as  all  the  fields  of  science  and  of  morals  open  before  him, 
as  their  rich  repast  invite  his  taste,  and  he  is  springing 
forward  to  acquire  and  enjoy,  Death  strikes  the  blow,  and 
extinguishes  the  light  of  life  and  hope.  Shall  it  be 
forever?  Is  there  no  other  world?  Is  there  no  otlier 
theatre  for  man's  knoAvledge  and  attainment  ?  Did  God 
create  these  high  faculties — these  unquenchable  desires  and 
aspirations,  only  to  destroy  them  ?  Did  he  place,  before  the 
lips,  the  full  cup  of  natural  and  intellectual  enjoyment,  only 
to  dash  it  away  forever  ?  Or  is  there  an  hereafter  ?  A 
world  beyond  the  grave,  where  this  ardent  expectant  spirit 
shall  meet  with  its  complete  felicity  ?  Is  there  an  eternity 
of  life  and  of  joy — a  boundless  existence  in  which  mental 
advancement,  and  immortal  delights  shall  commingle  their 
harmonies  forever  ? 

One  more  instance  !  It  shall  be  in  the  extreme  of  life. 
Look  upon  that  old  man — of  grey  hairs  and  tottering  limbs. 
The  breath  of  Heaven  may  not  visit  him  too  roughly.  A 
more  than  second  childhood  is  upon  his  mortal  frame.  The 
powers  of  nature  are  attenuated  to  their  finest,  frailest  thread. 
All  his  functions  tremble  to  their  extinction.  A  little  longer, 
and  "  the  silver  cord  is  loosed" — '-  the  golden  bowl  broken." 


.1* 


>i 


13  / 

He  must  fulfil  the  primal  universal  Ia%  and  return  his  dust 
to  dust.  On  his  corporeal  structure,  are  all  the  infallible 
symptoms  of  decay  and  dissolution.  But  within  are  the 
liveliest  energies  of  intellectual  life.  There,  the  rational 
Spirit  displays  her  unspent  powers — gives  manifest  proofs 
of  undiminished  vitality  and  of  unceasing  progress.  In  that 
Spirit  we  see  fancy  and  reality — memory  and  hope — the  full 
understanding  of  the  present — the  fresh  and  luxuriant  antici- 
pation of  the  future.  In  eminent  and  amazing  contrast, 
stands  out  the  spiritual,  from  the  physical — must  we  not 
say,  the  immortal  from  the  mortalJ  Is  not  here  the  eternal 
hand  of  God — the  full  assurance  of  ever-lasting,  and  ever- 
progressing  life?  These  are  the  pleasing  conclusions  of 
analogy  and  reason.  Revelation  confirms  their  reality  and 
truth.  We  shall  not  be  disappointed  in  these  foreshadowings 
of  futurity — these  solaces  of  humanity.  There  is  a  time  be- 
fore us,  when  every  anticipation  shall  be  possession.  There 
is  a  kingdom  prepared  for  us,  in  which  every  aspiration  of 
the  mind  shall  be  realized — every  throb  of  expected  glory 
tind  its  exaltation,  and  every  holy  hope,  its  consummation 
and  its  bliss.  In  a  world  thai  knows  no  night,  and  whose 
life  knows  no  decay,  the  rapt  Spirit  shall  drink  in  from 
fountains  that  ever  flow,  pleasures  that  never  cease. 

It  is  most  true,  that  while  the  progressive  elements  of  the 
mind  indicate  eternity,  they  do  not,  of  themselves,  secure  to 
us  a  blessed  immortality.  As  in  this  world,  to  live,  is  not 
always  to  be  either  good  or  happy,  so,  in  the  world  to  come, 
to  live  forever,  is  not  itself,  the  bliss  of  imalortalil3^  In  the 
cultivation  of  the  intellect,  science  alone  cannot  furnish  our 
proper  reward,  nor  fulfil  the  end  for  which  we  were  created. 
But  who  supposes  that  there  is  no  moral  department  in  cur 
Spiritual  constitution  ?  Or  that  the  education  of  man  to 
benefit  and  pleasure,  does  not  involve  the  Soul's  advance  in 
goodness  and  truth?  In  the  union  and  progress  of  the  in- 
tellectual and  tho  moral,  must  be  sou'^ht  the  blessings  of 
which  we  speak.  We  commend  not  to  you,  the  mere  pride 
of  intellect,  nor  would  allure  you  to  pleasures  unsatisfying 


ond  poisoned.  We  kao-vv  nothing  so  vain  and  presumptuous 
— ?o  poor  jina  empty,  as  llis  gilded  trophies  of  lettered  in- 
fidelity. Such  men,  witli  their  exclusive  and  vain-glorious 
claims  of  reason,  h.ive  forgotten  her  oince  and  her  subjection 
to  her  author.  Wilh  their  proud  boast  of  manhood,  there- 
fore, they  often  betray  the  imbecilities  of  a  child.  Not 
among  them  have  r-hone  out  upon  the  Vv-'orld,  the  great  lights 
of  science  and  of  mind.  Let  then,  the  Goddess  of  reason  find 
her  grave  where  slie  fcmd  her  birthi,  in  a  land  sick  wit!i 
crime  and  flowing  witli  blood.  Tier  orgies  are  amid  guilt 
and  atheism.  May  her  v.'orshippers  never  be  found  among 
us.  Far  from  us,  and  from  our  happy  country,  be  the  day  when 
freedom  shall  all}'  herself  with  ungodliness.  Then  shall  the 
Heavens  be  dark  and  the  clouds  drop  blood.  "Ichabod''  shall 
be  written  upon  our  standards.  Tiie  pillars  of  our  political 
fabric  shall  be  shaken  and  our  honor  laid  in  the  dust.  I'^ay 
the  aulh:or  of  our  g;rcntne3S  and  the  preserver  of  our  rights, 
save  us  from  a  downf:.!!  over  v/Iiich  Angels  v/ould  vv-eep,  and 
Evil  Spirits  rejoice. 

The  mind  which  seeks  its  glory  v.'ilhout  religion,  prepares 
for  itself  but  v.-retchcdness  of  existence,  and  tlie  phrenzy  of 
despair.  We  deny  not,  the  supremacy  of  reason.  We  would 
not  depreciate  the  value  of  knowledge.  The  very  object  of 
this  address  has  been  to  elevate  both.  But  never  would  we 
separate  reason  and  knou'iedge  from  the  throne  of  God.  We 
would  not  have  them  to  lie  in  darkness,  but  to  light  tlieir 
fires  at  the  aUar  of  Jesus  Christ.  We  would  have  the  illu- 
mination of  reason,  receive  guidance  and  sanction  from  the 
^'spirit  of  truth."  Let  its  influence  be  from  holiness — its 
authority  from  Heaven.  In  this  beautiful  blending  of  the 
rational  with  the  moral — this  union  of  reason  Vv'ith  religion 
• — this  mutual  progress  of  mind  and  holiness,  is  the  true  idea 
of  intellectual  culture.  In  these  must  we  seek  our  highest 
accomplishments.  In  these,  our  purest  enjoym-ents.  By 
them  we  must  prepare  ourselves  to  be  useful  on  earth — to  be 
blessed  in  Heaven.  Here  then,  Gentlemen,  we  would  have 
you  start  right,  and  affectionately  assure  you,  that  noiv  is 


15 

the  time.  Seed  arc  sown  within  j'ou  of  i.';1oriou,5  light.  It 
is  the  springtime  of  life.  The  moral  e;uth  is  opcnini^  and 
yielding  umier  gj;nial  inflnences.  The  clews  and  rains  ironi 
above,  fall  sweetly,  gently,  productively.  Prepare  for  an 
abundant  and  honorable  harvest.  You  are  now  open  to  im- 
pressions. Your  Cilections  are  v/arni  and  tender.  Your 
minds,  ductile  and  quick  to  apprehend  and  acquire.  Sensi- 
bility awakens  you  to  feel,  and  kindness  impels  you  to  sym- 
phathize.  The  pleasures  of  llie  imagination  play  around 
)-our  he::rt.  Tiie  thrill  of  joy  is  exquisite,  and  hope,  bright 
hope,  is  beckoning  you  onward.  She  is  a  true  guide  wiien 
she  takes  the  right  direction ;  n-heu  the  wrong,  a  false  en- 
chantress. Keed  her, only,  v;hen  she  points  to  truth.  Fol- 
low her  onl}^,  when  she  leads  to  purity.  Now  is  the  time, 
with  you.  It  is  the  season  of  ardent  emotion,  and  of  tho 
pure  ideal.  The  form  of  abstract  and  perfect  beauty,  capti- 
vates you.  Unchecked  by  any  contradicting  experiences  of 
life,  you  look  and  you  love.  We  would  not  aliogether  re- 
move this  vision,  or  subdue  this  rapture.  If  we  have  to  teli 
you,  that  the  mind's  perfect  conception,  and  the  heart's  pure 
passion,  may  not  find  their  objects  in  real  life,  yet  are  they, 
in  themselves,  both  glorious  and  prophetic.  They  are  th.e 
elements  of  pure  Spirit,  and  a  v.'orld  intended  for  them.  If 
it  be  net  here,  let  us  look  above.     With  unwavering   faitl), 

''  C>  7 

and  unwearied  step,  let  us  through  the  Soul's  progresses,  pre- 
pare her  for  her  glory. 

Declare  yourselves  for  the  mind,  for  tru!h,  and  for  reli- 
gion. Buckle  on  their  armor  and  go  forth  to  vi'in  their  bat- 
tles. Not  without  the  strongest  emotion,  do  v/e,  who  are 
going  out  of  life,  look  upon  you  who  are  coming  into  it. 
We  have  tried  the  v/orld,  and  know  what  it  is.  Sucli  as  it 
is,  to  you  it  must  be  committed.  We  see  more  clearly  than 
you  do,  the  intimate  connexion  you  must  hove  with  society, 
and  how  your  character  will  affect  its  interests.  From  you 
and  such  as  you,  the  next  generation  must  take  its  stamp. 
And,  be  assured,  the  world  sadly  needs  improvement  in  th.e 
''stuS"  that  life  is  made  of."     Say  that  you  will  improve  it. 


1« 

That  from  your  example,  there  shall  go  out  none,  but  salu- 
tary and  elevating  influences.  Set  for  yourselves  a  standard 
of  perfect  integrity  and  of  unflinching  industry.  Be  true, 
be  laborious.  In  your  measures,  and  for  good,  seek  to  im- 
press yourselves  upon  your  age.  Fond  eyes  are  upon  you. 
Warm  hearts  beat  for  you.  The  hope  of  good  men,  is  in 
you.  The  Old  North  State  is  calling  to  you.  Rise  up  then, 
to  the  high  demands  of  parents,  friends  and  country.  Shake 
off  ignoble  ease.  Despise  low  vice.  Beneath  you,  be  all 
artiflce  and  cunning.  Step  forward  in  the  simple  spirit  of 
truth,  and  take  her  banner  into  your  hands.  Bear  it 
humbly,  but  bear  it  nobly.  There  is  for  you  the  highest 
authority,  the  most  sacred  example.  Be  the  followers  of 
Him,  who  in  the  trial  of  injustice,  that  terminated  in  His  death 
declared — "  To  this  end  was  I  born,  and  for  this  cause  came  I 
into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  witness  unto  the  truth." 


v*>. 


;  *'f 


M 


